My Adventures with Edgar
by sleepingwithkillerdragons
Summary: Work in progress! (and because of the time of year I don't get to write much!) After Victoria loses herself, things get fuzzy. She must do something. She must go somewhere to find a reason to live again, until a series of events play out and she is in the hands of Edgar Allan Poe.
1. Chapter 1

The brisk morning air hit my shoulders and I shuddered with sleep, chills, and fear. My husband stood in front of me on a scaffold waiting to be hanged until dead. He had gone so long and hadn't been caught. It was his own fault for trying to poison that man. I can't believe he could be so foolish to think a no good crook was worth it.

"Samuel Green," I muttered to myself, "why did you do it?" I chuckled under my breath with a tear forming in my eye. The vocal chords bunched in my throat and I swallowed them as best as I could, but I only began crying.

_Stop it you good for nothing whore. They can't know of your feelings for this bastard. Stop it. Conceal your emotions and leave right now. You know you should have never come. _The sharp ridged voice from within me voices its opinion.

"It is right," I thought. Air filled my lungs as I gave my dear husband one last grim smile. He gave me a grin with those rotting crooked teeth gleaming in the sun. My parasol went up with ease. The sun shadowed myself from the crowd of incestuous filths surrounding me. I waved good-bye and turned away as the preacher asked him his final words.

His words still ring through my ears. "They shall know my fate, for I have written my confession out in full." I can still hear the grin in his words. That cheeky bastard I've always loved. A tear left my eye as the preacher asked him if he was penitent for the sins he committed. _If you wish._ I heard a lever pull and the rope tighten with, _one, two, three_, bounces before it was done. A woman shrieked and the men were muttering to each other. It is probably for the best that I couldn't hear them or else I would've been next to my Samuel in Hell right now.

I hurried home. No one could see me crying after the execution of a murderer wearing black at that. I mustn't show my mourning; not in public anyway.

_Oh my love. If only he was here. He was here for me when I needed him after my mother's passing. Nothing can be right ever again. Oh woe. How must I cope? How must I live? He was the one who loved me and I him. I must play piano. I must find work somewhere, maybe a news girl; I've always enjoyed news. That's what I'll do. I shall be a news girl helping with the prints. I must move now. I must move out of our home. But, what if I forget him? I cannot forget my love. I could just stay at home for a while. Maybe I could invest in a companion like a cat. No, not a cat; not an animal for that matter. I've had problems with those before. Who could forget the incident with mother's cat. She probably still hates me for that. So a new job and a new life; that is what will happen._

My mind flittered. It wouldn't stop. The door opened with ease and the housemaid tried to greet me warmly and I wouldn't have it. "Matilda, get the party liquor out now," I said gasping for air with a sharpness in my breath.

Matilda ran and I went to the drawing room and sat painfully in my dear Samuel's chair. My breaths got worse to where I couldn't breathe. Anxiety flowed through my veins and I felt as if I was to vomit. I made some retching noise I didn't want to make. Vomit left my mouth and covered the rug that sat before me. Matilda ran into the room with the whiskey and the wine and the rum all lined neatly on a tray. How she managed to not spill them all amazes me.

She rushed to my side to hold my dress from getting into the pile of digested oatmeal, beef, and bread that lay before me. "Miss! Miss Smith!" She held my hand nervously shaking it a bit. "Miss, are you alright? Is this about Mister Green? I know you two were close. Grew up together even. Miss? Answer me. Are you okay ma'am?"

"Yes, Matilda. Yes to it all. Now please leave me in peace. I have just lost my childhood friend," I forced out while grabbing the bottle of whiskey. The delicate top with a glass ball came off easily. I clenched the bottle by its neck, being sure that I wouldn't lose the bottle filled with gold, and I chugged. One gulp. Two gulps. Three. It was all sliding down so easily. The liquid fire burned within me and Matilda's eyes stared at me in horror. "Miss Matilda, I don't know what you know of manners, but when asked to leave you do."

Her expression grew with more horror; her eyes never leaving the bottle I held so tightly. She quickly left the drawing room and ran to stay away from me. It was for the best she did. I put that bottle back to my lips and it was all gone when it parted them.

All thirty ounces of whiskey gone and for some reason I didn't feel any different. The room spun a little, but no more than usual. Those retched voices were coming back in whispers and laughs. I went for Samuel's "secret" supply of opiates; while I loved my Samuel, he couldn't keep a secret to save his life. After he had used those damned things, he'd come into the kitchen proudly announcing what he'd done.

Quickly, I snatched the wooden box off the top of the bookcase in the drawing room. The little gold initials read S.G. and they were cold as ice. I blew the thin layer of dust off the top of it; it has been weeks since any hands have touched this box. It opened with ease to reveal the red velvet lining. I grabbed the brass syringe full of morphine. The vein was practically popping out of my arm. The cool syringe slid easily into my arm and the liquid soothed my nerves. As happiness warmed my body, I sighed remembering my childhood with such fondness.

_I was the new girl in school. My brown ringlets bounced as I walked in my new lilac dress. No one knew me and I knew no one. This was not my good English Girl's Boarding School. There was no dress code here. This was Newhampton. _

"_They do not have rules. Boys go to the same school as girls! It is so much insanity. I cannot believe that they would corrupt young men's minds with girl's running around them. How could one learn with the opposite sex in the same room? It is unimaginable," _I shake my head and feel the curls hit my cheeks. I smile and clutch my books closer to my chest. The curls make me happy. _Even if I am going to a hellacious school I will always have my curls. Nothing less than curls for the rest of my life. How can women cut their hair ever or put it up? It is too much fun having curls. That is why I must go to school. I must learn to be a proper lady. I must do away with my imaginary friends and I must learn to do away with my curls._

I walk into the school yard gates. A young man with a dirt smudged face and tattered clothes is painting the fence. He must have done wrong. The smell of paint filled the air. That fence was awfully white, even if the nails in it were not even in the slightest. That boy must have done wrong and had to put up the fence as well!

The cooling fall air blows summer away bitterly as the schoolmaster comes out calling for the day to begin_. All the children have bright shining faces and I am the one with ringlets and a lacy lilac dress! This will never do! I must have mother buy me new clothing at once! I must fit in._

"Class, this is Miss Victoria Edwards," the schoolmaster smiles; his clean shaven face reflecting the sun that shown through the window.

"Hello Miss Edwards," the class recited drone-like in unison.

_The schoolmaster looks disappointed in them. I must please him. I will be sure to be cheery when reciting things. We mustn't let schoolmaster be upset. Be a good girl. Don't act out of place again. Mum and Dad will send you away again if you act out of place. You don't want to go back there. Be good. Don't upset anyone._

"Miss Edwards because we don't have any seats next to a girl open you will have to sit in Mister Green's seat and he will stand during class," schoolmaster gestured to the back and the young man that was working on the fence rose. _He doesn't look happy. You've already done wrong._

"Schoolmaster, it isn't right to let him alone stand. I shall sit with him today and then tomorrow I shall bring my own desk so we both might sit." _Good girl. You've compromised. Remember smile and make them happy. You won't have to go back._

_Why does schoolmaster look so shocked? Have I done wrong? Oh you terrible girl. Stupid. Stupid. Why must you be so stupid? But the boy is smiling. Why is he smiling? Everyone is staring at me. They look so odd and surprised. Why is he happy? Oh, Mister Green stop smiling at me. I have done wrong. I deserve no approval. None at all. Stop it won't you. I've clearly upset schoolmaster and the other pupils. I hope I haven't interrupted the day's learning. Oh how terrible it would be if they couldn't learn today! I only wish to learn. I want us all to learn. Silly girl. Maybe you can take it back._

"Miss Edwards, you're from England correct?" he smiled at me trying to understand. I nod sheepishly. "Well, here we do things a little differently. No girl will sit with any boy. It is a rule. For now, Mister Green will stand, but I will bring in a desk for him tomorrow."

I walk effortlessly to my seat and Mister Green writes me a note on his chalkboard. That must be very out of line. I read it. '_Hi name's Samuel. You can call me Sam.'_

_I remember 1806 like it was yesterday. We were only 10 years old. That day in class was the first time I met the worst boy I would ever meet. He was my best friend. My companion. My lover. My husband._

The miracle left my veins and I returned to reality. How I miss those simple days. The river came back to my face. I thought they were gone; I was wrong. I lost him.

_He is gone now. He will never be back. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. He was dead and gone now. Gone. I would never feel his touch again. Gone. I would never see that hellacious smile again. Gone. I would never help him with his mischievous plans. Gone. I would never be called his again. He is gone and people mustn't know. What would happened if people knew I was really Ms. Green and not Miss Edwards or Miss Smith? I cannot be married to a criminal. They would take me away. Again. I cannot have that. For now I must keep going. I must leave here. Go to New York or travel. I can do anything I guess. Samuel and I got enough money over the years. I can run away. I can pack my things away tonight and leave a note for Matilda. I could become a whore if nothing else. Prostituting is not a respectable profession, but money is money and I would know how to do it. Today, April 25, 1822, I will run and never look back. Today I lost my love, but I will not let today live down in infamy as the day that destroyed me. Victoria Green died today with her husband, as Victoria Edwards died the day she married her husband. Today, Victoria Smith thrives._


	2. Chapter 2

I awake in a room that I've never seen before. My throat is quite parched and I cannot feel my tongue for it is too dry to be felt. I scan the room for some sign of something to drink. All I can find is liquor and some form of thick red liquid in a big glass container, much like the one containing the brandy. The red liquid has some weight to it. I swirl the bottle around and watch it coat the sides and slowly run down. It left a red stain on the glass. If it wasn't so beautiful looking, I wouldn't have considered what I did.

I grabbed a short stemmed glass with a little petal design on the bottom of the glass and the stem fastened to the glass by a bulb of glass. I closely examined the glass, which appeared to be clean despite it having a small dried red pool in the center of the petal design. Hesitating slightly, I decided to pour the liquid into the glass.

Carefully, I swirled the glass of liquid as I did the bottle of it. It bubbled slightly at the top and didn't coat the walls of the glass as thickly as it did to the container. Desperate for a drink, I stopped playing around and took a sip. It tasted all too familiar, but I couldn't place my finger on it. It had a metallic taste, but it was sweet as well. One thing I could determine was that it had some other form of alcohol in it by the way it stung my throat.

That glass was enjoyable, so I drank another quickly and explored this room I was in. It looked like a luxury motel room; there were two big heart-backed chairs covered in green velvet and a couch of the same material with gold rimming the top near what seemed to be a living area. Dresses and men's clothes filled the floor; I swore I've seen this room before by the dresses that look like mine, but I don't believe I've worn before. I avert my eyes from the floor and see a giant bed with fluffy down stuffing it. It looks overwhelming and like a comforting disaster. Pillows strewn across it, some split open and the goose down scattering the bed. Two long windows sat on either side of the bed with golden curtains half torn down. A mahogany door in the corner caught my eye. As I moved towards it, my foot kicked something prickly and stiff. I removed the clothes covering it and found rope.

I shook it off as nothing because this door interested me. I had never been in a motel room with more than one door before and this plain door was not the entry door. As I drew closer and closer, I started to second guess opening it. I was going to leave. I wanted to leave. This room had all my clothes in it, though, so I must've been through this door before. I grabbed the delicate crystal knob and turned it slightly. Before me was a room with white tile and white walls. There was a white thing that sat in the middle of the room. It was quite odd; attached to the floor, looking of some form of pottery, it had a bowl on it that was mahogany rimmed, and a golden chain.

I walked closer to it. The chain was cold to the touch. I peered inside the bowl. It was filled with water and looked like the water could go somewhere. I pulled the chain and the water vanished down a pipe. Then, I was hit by epiphany; this was a real toilet with plumbing. I laughed for a while at myself. I couldn't be any more foolish!

I filled a pot they had in the room with water from the pump in the corner and heated it on the big black furnace, laughing at myself all the while. Three pumps of the squeaky pump, water brought to a hot boil, and then it being dumped into the cool wash tub made of the same material as the toilet. This process was repeated about six or seven times, until the tub was filled. I took off the little clothing I had on and got into the steaming water. It burned but felt so amazing.

I took my hair out of its braided bun and it was stuck in that position. I laughed at the thought of not having to have my hair held up anymore. My hands worked at each pin and strand of hair, but it was a sticky mess. I reached for the pot, filled it with tub water, and dumped it on my unruly hair three or four times until it was loose. I smiled at the handy work I had made. I, then, proceeded cleaning my hair with what soap was in the room. First, I worked at getting the sticky substance out of the ends of my hair, working the soap closer to my head.

Once my hands started washing my head, it burned. I couldn't tell what was wrong, so I searched for a fault on my head. My fingers found it and I cringed once it had been touched. I felt around it. It seemed to reach from behind my ear to the top of my neck. I pulled my fingers out of my messy hair and they were covered in red. Quickly, I reached for the pot and poured some water over it. Red caught my eye causing me to look at the tub water; it was solid red.

I leaped from the wash and went to the pump. I held my head under it as I pumped the icy cold water on my head and it ran onto my face. I opened my eyes. The white floor tiles became covered in watery red. My breathing got quicker and I let out a yelp. I started pumping faster and faster. Nothing was working.

A light tapping came at the chamber door. "Miss Edwards? Miss Edwards are you alright? Miss, I am sorry, but we must enter." A young man came into my room. I could hear him gawking at the state of the room as he made his way into the water closet.

The young man entered the room. He was in his 20's; 23 by the looks of it. He was wearing an all-black uniform with a blue stripe up either side. His chestnut brown hair was slicked back and had looked ridiculous. He knelt down next to me and I was hit with the scent of the water and fish. Upon a closer examination, there was a vein pulsing in his neck. I watched it. I could hear it. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _

He saw I wasn't alright and saw all the blood coming from the back of my head. _Thump. _He lifted my head and touched my wound. _Thump. _I didn't feel it. _Thump._ He looked at the blood on his hands. _Thump. _He gagged. _Thump. _He said something _thump _but I couldn't _thump _hear him. The room _thump _was spinning _thump._ If _only _I could get to that vein.

"Sir," I spoke with a twisted grin, "might you come a bit closer, so I might give you my dying wishes?" I gently felt my pointed nails. _Perfect for clawing. _He brought his ear closer to my mouth. The thumping grew faster. _Victoria, silence that blasted vein while you still can. _

"I must admit to you, sir, that I haven't felt a bit alright in quite some time, but now, I feel as if the world is bowing before me," my grin grew with each word that left my lips.

"Why is that Miss Edwards?" his words left those gorgeous pink velvet lips so slowly_. The boy actually believes I'm dying!_

I chuckled at the thought and his face turned white. "Oh dear boy, you have much to learn. What year is it child?" I mumbled into his ear with a sharp tone in my voice.

Everything in the room froze. The boy's vein stopped thumping. His face had no colour at all and his body went slightly limp. I found my footing and slowly rose over him. Not a muscle on his body moved an inch. He knelt there looking at the blood on his hand. His shoulders were no longer rising with every breath he took. His body took a very rigid form. No more would he be the happy boy working in a hotel and he knew it.

"Rise boy. I need to know if you are going to help me or not. I shall not put up with dead weight, but if I must then I will." The sharpness of my tone cut through him. His body shook and he took to his feet.

"It is 1830 ma'am. My name is Robert," Robert stammered.

"Good boy, Robert. I am Victoria; Victoria Green. But I happen to also go by Victoria Smith and Victoria Edwards. How long have I been staying in this godforsaken place?"

"You have been in this hotel since 1828 Miss. We have always had complaints about you making a ruckus, but no one has ever been brave enough to enter after what happened to the last keeper that entered here."

"What happened to this keeper? Please tell me I did not kill and hide the body somewhere in the hotel." I put my fingers on my temples. I would be stupid enough to kill and keep the body where I killed.

"_Killed?_" Robert's face grew with an unknown horror. Tremors all over his face and neck went off like the fault lines.

"Yes, now back to my question. You ask too much. Stop that."

"No, the keeper was found hanging in a closet in his home. We thought you talked him into going through with it."

"Well, I might've talked him into it. People are easily persuaded when it is necessitated. He was already thinking it in the first place. I didn't have to do much to make him jump. Now, do you understand medical things child?"

"Medical things? I am but the keep that replaced the other. I was the bellhop before."

"Oh how ignorance is bliss," I muttered to myself. "Well, you need to get me out of here and they won't need a new keep. Take me to your home. Tell them you must escort me to the nearest doctor. I shall stitch myself in your home. I pray you have needle and thread?"

Robert looked at me dumbfound. Colour came back to his face. He looked angry; almost as if he was going to smack me down. "I shall not take you in!" He bellowed. "I owe you _nothing_! You are no better than a psychopath!"

"Keep your voice down if you want to live child," I rolled my eyes. "You know too much and I had planned on killing you sooner, but if you wish to go through with it now then that is fine to me."

Robert's colour drained yet again. His body took a rigid form yet again. His vein started thumping again and his breathing grew faster. "You wouldn't," he whispered.

"Robert, I don't remember a thing since April 1822. More than likely I have killed many since then. I was married to Samuel Green and I was the boss of his crime ring. I controlled who they killed and when. I killed those who were no longer needed. No one knows of the crime ring I controlled. No one knows that Samuel was even in a crime ring. I hide well child. Killing you would be easy and no loss. Either you can enlist your help or I must hide your body and stitch myself. It is all your choice."

"But, I have a wife and a child ma'am. You can't kill me. My wife would have to become a mill girl and my baby girl her assistant."

"I do not discriminate against who I kill. I kill all I need. They took my husband from me 8 years ago. If you ask me it is only sweet revenge. Now I have no more time to talk with you. You have two seconds to help me or die."

Robert didn't move an inch. "I cannot help."

I struck him down with a quick flick. My nail sliced his main artery. His body collapsed to the floor in a small heap. He was choking on the blood leaving his body. Blood covered the white tile floors giving me complete satisfaction. I knelt down next to him and whispered, "Robert, next time someone gives you a way out, do be smart. Now I must find your wife and child. You've only made my job bigger. Thank you for the place to stay. It is quite a blessing. Have a lovely death." I smirked and scooped his blood into my glass. I took a sip and chuckled. "You are sweeter than the last bloke I killed!"

I changed into a new dress that lay upon the floor. I snatched up a clutch purse and my drink bottle. Who knows how many I had to kill to get that sophisticated blend! I was not about to leave it behind! I fastened a hat to my head and looked in upon my victim.

"Don't hurt them," he sputtered choking his bittersweet blood out.

"Who said I would? I am just going to shelter myself with them. Do take-care Robert. No one will be the wiser and I shall grow victorious off ignorance."

I swished my skirts in his face and was off. Hurriedly, I left the room so I wouldn't be caught leaving. Once in the hall, my pace slowed to not raise any concern. Deliberately paced, I went into the lobby. I calmly walked to the front desk, carrying myself as a lady should, and spoke with the attendant. "Hello sir, I just walked past room 403 and heard screams. The door was open, but it wouldn't be right for me to intrude. I think you shall need all staff to go up there immediately."

His face lit up, "Thank you ma'am!" He smiled at me. "We've got her this time," he muttered to himself happily. He started off into an office, but turned around like he had forgotten something. "I am sorry miss. Please excuse me." The short stout man ran off almost clicking his heels in sheer joy.

I smirked at him as he left. _Stupid man._ The lobby was clear and I went behind the desk. There was a drawer labeled _employee information_. The drawer opened with ease and I rummaged through the files looking for a Robert. There were two men named Robert, but only one had recorded information of a wife and child. I scribbled the address on a stray piece of paper and left the building.

_I hear running from down the hall. Oh, how I pray it isn't the crazy woman. It sounds like more than one person. Maybe they shall save me so I can save my Emily and our little Violet. I think they just entered the room. I can hear rummaging in here. They did enter. _

"We have you now Miss Edwards!" _A man calls out to whoever is in the room. I know that voice. It sounds like Emmett. Oh, how I never thought I would be happy to hear from that stout mess._

"Emmett!" _my voice comes out raspy and in sputters. _"Emmett! I'm in here!"

_I hear them draw closer to the water closet. _"Robert? Robert!" _Emmett answers me questioningly. He tears into the room and gasps at my unsightly appearance._

_I smile, but the blood comes in thicker. She didn't cut my artery very deep. That damned whore. I cough, choking on my blood even more than I have been. I feel my lungs filling with the heavy sloshy liquid. She didn't cut me right at all. She must've tried to make me suffer. That damned whore. First, she plans on killing me slowly, then my family! No consideration for life at all. I hope she kills them swiftly._

"Was it her, Robert? Please don't die! SOMEONE CALL THE DOCTOR!" _Emmett kneels by me._

"Emmett, I wish to die in peace," _I choke out. _"Be quiet and listen to these words." _I cough and try to compose my thoughts. I vomit from too much blood. _"She was married to Samuel Green." _I cough again. The room starts to go dim. I cannot die yet. He doesn't know of my wife and child! The room is growing darker and darker. I no longer feel control of my body. I cannot see. There is nothing to see. There is only blackness. I now feel as if I am in a different place. I am in control again. I stand and gaze at everything. Nothing anywhere. I can see a light now. It is faint. Maybe if I go towards it I can find my way home. The light touched me and now I see nothing. Everything is drowned in a blinding white light. I can no longer see my beautiful Baltimore. I will never again see my Emily or my Violet. I hope they don't forget me. I hope they don't die by that wretched woman's hand._


	3. Chapter 3

_54…55…56…57…Here we are: number 58. Don't forget your rules Victoria. Be polite and do not upset the family. Remember what happened last time when you made someone mad. We can't have another death on our hands. Samuel isn't here to clean up the blood._

I trot up to the door careful of who's watching. The hall is full of people, mostly the old and ill. The building is in no condition to live in let alone one to raise children. A group of young boys run past me with their caps on and stockings sliding down their knobby knees. The floor squeaks beneath their feet, sounding like it could give at any moment.

After I ensure no one could recognize me as what I am, a smile finds its way onto my face and I knock on the flimsy door three times. A baby's cries alarm through the walls and it seems that every babe on the floor awake from their slumber. I can hear a young woman getting upset at her child's waking and then the footsteps go towards the door.

She smiles to greet me. One tooth sticks out a bit further than the rest and she obviously hasn't charcoaled those disgusting teeth in years if ever. Her hair is blonde, dirty, both in coloring and cleanliness, and piled on her head very messily. The dark circles under her eyes show she hasn't been sleeping and the askew hair in her bun tells that she's been scratching at the lice. How a mother could raise a child with such poor hygiene is beyond me.

Her arms look weak with fatigue, but strong from unneeded labors. Robert is not the man to allow her to do all the work with heavy things. She was with someone else before who wasn't as kind. A small concaved area on her cheek looks like whatever caused it packed a powerful blow. I cannot think of a machine that would do any kind of damage of that nature. Robert stole this girl from her other husband and ran away to America to protect her.

The small room behind the door isn't worth whatever they pay in rent. It is better than the tenants I've seen before, but it can't be much more than that room. Not far behind this little woman is a bed stuffed of nothing more than straw and the linens on it look quite uncomfortable. Right next to the bed is the girl's crib, which is nothing more than a wooden box set up so it can be rocked. A chair is set by it and a stove top is next to it. It wasn't much more than the one in the hotel washroom. In the corner, a dull silver washtub collects dust.

"Hello Miss. What brings you to my doorstep?" She asks noticing my prying eyes.

"Pardon my manners. Your husband Robert sends me. He has had an accident at work and asks that you protect me here while he recovers. I see that this is a lot for you Miss Emily, but it is important nevertheless."

A look of urgent shock grows on the young mother. "What happened? Will he live? Oh please don't tell me I'll have to raise Violet alone."

"Quiet now for your little one," I raise my hand and pretend to soothe her. I am a good liar. "He hit his head trying to protect me from my husband. He was coming to hit me and your Robert stood up for me when no one else would. He is valiant for his deeds. Now, they are putting him up in the hotel to ensure his health. He asked I came here for my safety." My lies may have been an exaggeration and they may have pulled from her being from abusive relations. Maybe I'm a bit manipulative as Samuel said.

_Focus stupid. Do not get too sure of yourself._

Emily's face twists from my lie. Her eyes begin to water as if she remembered something horrible. My confidence was true. She just nods and invites me in. I did it. I sit by Violet and smile upon her. I hate children, especially babies. If I could kill them all I would. Sadly, we need them in this world for some god awful reason. I feel newborns should be sent away to a certain island to be taught and once they are seen fit, then and only then may they be sent home. The children should also be organized by intelligence, not age. It would keep the stupid children from corrupting the ignorant. Something drips down my face and Emily gasps.

"Miss, blood is running down your face!" Her face grew white.

I feel my head knowing exactly what it is. "Oh my, its nothing," I underestimate for pity. She will stitch my head if I am the victim.

"No, you must let me help you. I'll be back," she runs off to fetch water.

I stand up and look around the room in better detail. A small table big enough for two sits opposite the stove and the babe. There isn't room for it, but he probably wanted her to have it no matter what. On the table sits a small oil lamp engraved with something I cannot read. It is not American, that I can tell. It seems to be German, but I've never cared much for the Germans, so this death should be easy to cope with.

"What is your name?" The dirty German girl returns with the water. I can't believe I didn't catch that godawful accent sooner. She has been here too long, or I'm rusty. Who knows what I've been doing these past years!

"My name is Isabelle. Isabelle…Greene," I choke out the last name with a tear. A little overacting never hurt a soul.

"Oh! Be quiet now," she pulls a rag out of the pail. "It is okay now. Our job is to carry our husband's name and love him unconditionally." She begins at my head and it stings more than it should, but I don't care. The rag dips quickly in the water, is rung out, and then is put back to use; same over and over again. The water keeps getting redder with each dip in the already dirty water. Emily pulls at my hair dragging out clumps of blood. The rag plops back into the filthy bucket and she holds my chin. "Beautiful. You know we must stay strong. It is our duty," she wipes away one of my tears. If she would've used her motherly touch on my head, there would be no tears.

"Do I need sutures?" I inquire wiping the water from my eyes. I haven't cried this much since I skinned my knees as a young girl.

"Probably, but I do not trust myself with them. I will call the hotel doctor for you, and then he can tell me of Robert's condition." A painful smile grew on Emily's face at the thought of her poor husband being in pain. How I do not pity her. If she was going to be so upset, then maybe she should've told him to not help strange women.

"Do not call the doctor. I fear he will tell my husband where I am," I add a fake wince to my voice. The inflection wins her sympathy. "I've stitched myself before. I could do it again. No need to call anyone. I will only need a needle and thread."

Emily stands and her feet trudge to the top dresser drawer. With a sigh, she places the items in my hands. Without a single word passing my lips, she grabbed the dirty, muddy water stained, mirror and held it so I could see what I was doing.

I make quick work on stitching my gash. This isn't my first time stitching something that I didn't know how it happened and it wouldn't be the last time I did either. In places, my needle wouldn't break through my skin because of old scars. How awful. Women shouldn't have scars like I do. Lucky for me I am no ordinary woman.

_Women make their time better with children. Why anyone would put themselves through that torture is beside me. I'd much rather do something meaningful to the world. Why raise a child when I can wreak havoc? Every scar on my body is a battle scar, a victory, a reminder of the things I cannot remember for the life of me. I cannot imagine a life where a scar is just something gotten as a child or as an abuse from the husband. Life is made to be lived. What is a life measured in children and the husband's happiness?_

_Life is made for love, laughs, scars, and memories. A woman cannot freely voice her opinion and that is wrong. Anything a man could conjure couldn't compare to what comes naturally to a woman. Men lack the wits that a woman does and because of that women must be suppressed, so men are seen as the wiser. These times must change. Men and women must be equal and I'll be dammed if the reason I cannot voice my opinion is a house wife being beaten half to death every night._

I pull the thread tightly to ensure the sutures don't bust open. I gather my belongings and begin to leave the home without a further word. Emily grabs my wrist. "You can't leave with your husband out there. He will kill you."

I turn towards her with a grin plastered across my face and a throaty cackle seeping out my lips. "Emily, take care of your young one. Your husband is dead and I killed him. If you are smart, then you'll keep quiet. Don't forget I know where you live and I know your name. I could also notify the authorities that a man's wife ran off with another man and she needs to be sent home. Do not underestimate me child. I was married to the killer Samuel Greene, not like that means a thing to you. He's been dead for years and I've been carrying on the legacy he never finished. Now, hush child," I place my finger on her lips and whirl my skirts out the door.

I can hear her begin to scream and wail as I slam the door. People in the halls avoid looking my direction at all costs. How smart of them.

_They all look like German filth, Victoria. One day you need to kill them all. They wronged you and they need to pay. Why should they be let off easy when you never have? You are only a girl everyone says. Lucky for you they cannot see your battle wounds; your trophies of kills. Victoria Greene, you will go down in history as the woman gone mad that got away. Good. You deserve no less._

******NOTE: I do not want to give off the impression that I hate any race. The "German hate" you see in the story is only part of the plot line and will influence how different things play out much later. Once again, I love everyone and I would really hate to see someone get offended over this. I am just playing along with the time frame in the story. I love all of you!******


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